


Ungracefully

by Yoshiaki



Series: Their kinda love is ageless [23]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Crack Fic, Embarrassed Bard, Flirty Thranduil, Just before BOTFA, M/M, Smirking Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshiaki/pseuds/Yoshiaki
Summary: Thranduil arrives in Dale to aid Bard’s people, and the poor bowman				literally falls from the three steps it takes to get to the Elfking
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Series: Their kinda love is ageless [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526645
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Ungracefully

**Author's Note:**

> Ello loves...
> 
> Let's embarrass Bard a little yeah?

They told him that the Elvenking was as beautiful as the moon. With skin the colour of ivory and eyes like ice, he held beauty even in battle with his two blades. They said that when he spoke, you could never look him in the eye, and he rode a beast so vile, it was as huge as a Belgian Heavy Draught horse.

They said that he ruled for thousands of years, they said he had been to countless of wars and slayed vicious beasts. They said he had turned his back on the King under the mountain when the dragon Smaug attacked and the orcs came.

But Smaug was dead now, and everything Bard had been told about the Elvenking was not something he bothered to remember, until one particular morning when he had slayed Smaug.

Wet, cold and hungry, the people of Lake-town sought shelter in the old ruins of Dale. Bard had led them there in hopes that the orcs wouldn’t dare ambush them, and he had been right so far when they found the city empty.

Those who were injured were tended to, and the rest were off scavenging for scraps of food that may have survived. Soon, fires were built, and the women, children and the injured were fed. Truthfully, Bard had no plan moving forth, and he wasn’t able to sleep much, worry gnawing at him like a parasite.

Sure Smaug would never bother them again, but people’s lives had been lost, homes destroyed, and what was once a way of living, now became a way of surviving. Bard had been acknowledged as King, but what was a king who could not give anything to his people?

Sigrid and Bain had assured him that everything would turn out okay, but even Bard could see in their eyes that they were only hoping. For not only had they lost what little they had, but they were about to face an uncertain future. Bard held his children close that night as they settled to get some sleep, and in his heart he hoped for a miracle to help them through this rough time.

Little did he know that his pleas were heard.

For the next morning, Bard bolted awake from a nasty nightmare that featured Smaug, and he left his sleeping children to clear his head and think of a plan for the day. Alfrid was supposed to be on watch in case an enemy approached, but Bard found him slumbering away on the tower like a newborn babe.

Irritated that he had placed what little trust he had in the filthy man, Bard woke Alfrid up to question him of what he had been up to.

Alfrid had lied and said nothing, but one particular sound drew his attention below, and upon looking, Bard was met with a small army of elves, lined up neatly next to each other.

Donned in green and gold armour, with weapons at their sides, and standing straight and tall, the elves were an intimidating sight that had Bard raising a very curious eyebrow as he wondered just what he had done that might have angered them.

Racing down from the tower to meet the elves in hopes to talk to them without starting a fight, Bard was immediately struck by an intense panic when he stepped forth to inquire what they were doing here, and the elves suddenly moved apart to form a neat row for him to pass.

For a mortal man—who should be shaking in his boots—he held up his consciences with great pride as the sound of clicking hooves graced his ears.

And the stories he had been told about the beautiful Elvenking turned out to be true, because riding in on an Elk as large as a Belgian Heavy Draught horse, with pure elegance, was none other than the Elvenking of the Woodland.

With skin like ivory and eyes like ice, Bard now understood why the old men who told him the stories looked out into the distance with blissful looks. They were in love with the King’s beauty, and Bard was no exception when he laid eyes on the elf he had been working for, for many years before Smaug’s attack.

Moving towards the elf with haste—because it was rude to stare for too long—Bard respectfully acknowledged the king as best as he knew how. “My lord Thranduil, we did not look to—”

But he was so enamoured by the king’s beauty that he did not pay attention to where he was stepping, and suddenly, he was face-planting on the stony ground, his nose bridge cracking on the pavement, and now the sudden panic of embarrassing himself turned into a fucking nightmare when he did more than that.

≼ __ ≽

Thranduil had heard stories of the quiet Bargeman who collected his wine barrels up river. He had heard the wood scouts whispering amongst themselves about a rugged mortal who resembled Girion, the dead king of Dale.

He heard them talk about watching him practice with his bow, and how defined his body was when he took off his clothes to bathe in the water.

But looking at him right now, laid out and unconscious since he fell on his face when his army had arrived, Thranduil noted that the stories of how handsome he was, were actually true. He was rugged from head to toe, with a defined chest full of dark curly hair, and arms that knew hard labour all too well.

Girion’s heir was surely a sight to behold.

“Ohhh, my face…” He groaned out as he opened his eyes. The Elvenking’s heart skipped a beat at the very sound of the mortal’s rich voice, and upon meeting his eyes, he was mesmerized to be reminded of the Woodland’s elder trees on a lovely spring day.

King Bard of Dale had woken, and for a moment, Thranduil admired his lips, until confusion took form on Bard’s face.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He said as he moved away a little to give the mortal man room to breathe. “How are you feeling?”

Slowly sitting up, and realising that he was in what looked to be a posh room, he answered, “A little sore actually,” and quietly adding, “What happened?”

Thranduil held back a smile as he said, “Well I believe as the mortals would say; you kissed the ground.”

Bard’s eyes went wide as he remembered, and his cheeks turned a lovely shade of red. “Oh damn. This is so embarrassing,” he whispered, and only then did Thranduil actually laugh.

“On the contrary,” he said, retaining his smirk, “do not be embarrassed. I rather would have liked to be the ground.”

Bard stared at him in shock, unable to comprehend what he just heard. Did the Elvenking just flirt with him, blatantly?

“Are you—flirting with me?” he inquired, just to be sure, because no way would such a lovely creature look twice at someone as dirty and simple as him. In fact, he couldn’t comprehend how on Arda the Elvenking was even interested in both gender species? The elf once had a wife, didn’t he?

And as though he could read Bard’s mind, Thranduil’s smirk grew flirty as he said, “Well if you consider that I just indirectly said I would have liked to be kissed by you, then yes, I am flirting with you.”

“I think I’m dead,” the mortal king said, his lungs squeezing uncomfortably. Sensing his turmoil, the Elvenking carefully touched his hand, a gentle smile on his face. “Worry not, Dragonslayer, we have plenty of time to know each other.” He said. “But you must rest now, for I fear the swelling of your nose will go down by midday. 

“Oh, Valar…” Bard muttered as he laid back down and pulled a pillow over his face in embarrassment.

Thranduil laughed as he got up to leave the tent. But before he got to the flaps, he took one last look at the mortal king in amusement. He was every bit as the stories said, but the elegance of mortal men was none to the elves, and thinking about it now, Thranduil found Bard’s little demise quite hilarious.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Bard...😄
> 
> StaySafe yall! ❤ 🌟  
> Thank you so much for reading! You are appreciated! – Yoshiaki


End file.
